


Kiss

by prairiecrow



Series: Lethe's Curse [4]
Category: ReBoot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Injury, Love/Hate, M/M, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob's wound from "Roar" is finally getting treated, and after a dose of datarra root wine things take a turn for the strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> 1) A direct sequel to "Roar".  
> 2) Bob and Megabyte at this point in the "Lethe's Curse" chronology: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/crowdog66/lethebobmegabyte-1.jpg  
> 2) The piece of art "Roar" was based on (and which has some relevance to this story): http://prairiecrow.deviantart.com/art/Lethe-Megabyte-Enraged-301993820

A couple of hours later Bob was sitting at a small table in Megabyte's suite of rooms at the Prancing Thivar, naked from the waist up while his injured arm was finally being tended to. He tried not to wince too obviously as Healer Lorvann snipped off the fletching of the arrow embedded in his raised right bicep, pushed the head through another inch to the other side of the muscle, and pulled it smoothly out with a small rush of blood that she neatly caught with a ready cloth before it could fall to the carpet underfoot.

It had been an exceptionally busy evening thus far, involving a small-scale but pitched battle undertaken by Bob, a squad of Megabyte's most highly skilled soldiers, and the virus himself. As soon as Lord Edrill's warriors had been subdued and the slave labourers who were the point of the exercise had been safely extracted from their dismal camp, Megabyte had tried to insist that Bob be the first to get healing treatment. Bob had told him to get stuffed: the arrow through his upper arm, while painful and awkward, had missed hitting any major arteries or veins — and the former slaves, ragged and thin and abused as they were, needed medical care far more urgently. For once Megabyte hadn't argued, only ordered one of his men to keep an eye on Bob and make sure that he didn't exert himself unduly before striding off to arrange (with ill grace) for the care of "Skinny's strays", as the First Army was already calling the men and women Bob had insisted upon rescuing from Edrill's clutches. 

That care had involved the use of every auric Healer in Megabyte's army, and a few employed from the townfolk of Forhault's Holm besides. Bob had no idea where Megabyte had billeted the freed workers, and frankly he wasn't too concerned about the details: the virus was a master of organization, and if anyone could find quarters for fifty-three unwashed bodies at a moment's notice in the dead of night, he was the one to do it. Evidently all that had been taken care of because Megabyte was currently standing mere yards away from Bob and the Healer, gazing out at the darkened street below with his hands clasped at the small of his back, studiously ignoring the sprite who was having his pierced arm healed by the clear yellow light of an esoric lamp. 

Beside Bob's left hand stood an empty brass goblet which had, only three minutes earlier, been full of cheap red wine laced with a painkiller: at Lorvann's insistence he'd drunk it all with a grimace — after having Glitch scan it to verify its contents — and he was already beginning to feel its effects creeping in around the edges of his mind. "A nice clean wound," the Healer was saying in the soothing lilt that all physicians seemed to adopt while treating patients, "no debris or tearing of the flesh, no sign of ballista or poison." Her voice blended nicely with the background hum of the medication, and Bob's eyelids were starting to feel heavy. "You'll be right as a quina in two days, with treatment morning and evening. It was a lucky thing, turning when you did."

"I doubt he appreciates that," Megabyte remarked, still gazing out at the darkness. 

"I do," Bob insisted, catching himself with a start as his head began to nod. "I just… you didn't have to kill _all_  of them."

"And what would you have suggested I do instead?" the virus demanded. Bob would have sworn that he was keeping his eyes averted from the blood rather than scanning the street for possibly enemy action… but this was _Megabyte_ , who had recently torn a score of men literally to pieces with evident pleasure. "Politely requested that they not fire upon you as you approached the gate? Perhaps offered them a refreshing cup of tea and some —"

"Okay, okay, I get the point." And he did, as much as he disliked it: the archers on the wall had to be dealt with, and Megabyte had taken them all out of commission by sowing such confusion and terror in their ranks that they hadn't spared a second's attention for Bob and the other warriors running toward the camp... still, he couldn't get the images out of his mind, of how the usually poised and restrained _catlana_ (for Megabyte was still a scholar, even now) had used his claws and his newly revealed teeth to scythe through the enemy like a demon out of a night tale. 

What he liked even less was how he found himself dwelling on the memories, replaying every graceful movement and beautifully lethal attack. Or how those memories seemed to settle into his flesh as well as his brain, burning with their own traitorous and sensual fire.

_Or how he ripped them apart because one of them took a shot at me — and hit. Damned twisty bastard, worming his way into my... _

__He was having trouble keeping his right arm extended and steady at the same time; Lorvann gently guided his hand to rest on his thigh and went on working, chanting a quick phrase in a language Bob didn't recognize as she manipulated the auric field around the wound, setting a chain of accelerated healing in motion. In the back of Bob's mind Glitch emitted a questioning chirp before falling silent again; Bob braced his left elbow on the table and settled his chin in the palm of that hand, and fought the urge to close his eyes. "What'd you just give me, anyway?"

"Datarra root," Megabyte and Lorvann replied simultaneously. For some reason that struck Bob as hilariously funny, and he had to bite back a snort of laughter.

"It's good stuff," he said innocently in response to Megabyte's annoyed glance and Lorvann's raised eyebrow. "Really, really good stuff. I'll bet you keep it locked up when you're not using it."

Megabyte tilted his strong chin just slightly to the left, a gesture that Bob had learned to read as impatience. "Given how toxic it is in even minute doses…"

"And addictive," Lorvann chimed in, adding a respectful: "Immortal Lord…" As if Megabyte was in charge of determining the effects of drugs on top of everything else! This time Bob had to briefly cover his mouth with his free hand to stifle his snicker. 

"Care to let us in on the joke?" Megabyte purred with dangerous civility.

"Nope," Bob grinned, and decided he could close his eyes for just a few seconds after all if he propped his head up securely on his left hand. So he did. When he opened them again Healer Lorvann had her coat on and was closing up her satchel, having evidently finished her healing magic, bound Bob's upper arm in white linen, cleaned up the area and packed her bag with superhuman swiftness.

"He'll be sedated for seven or eight hours to hasten the work of the _svarah_ , my Lord," she was saying, presumably to Megabyte: Bob was having difficulty focussing on anything further away than the end of the table, and Megabyte's tall angular form was no longer standing beside the window. "Be certain he doesn't try to go up or down any stairs, and that he's accompanied when he —"

"I'm fine," Bob piped up, and tried to prove it by getting to his feet again — which worked just fine until he was actually standing, at which point he swayed precipitously and stumbled back a step, bringing his left hand to his forehead as the room swam around him. "Whoa…"

Long-fingered steel hands closed around his shoulders from behind, steadying him. "I'll take care of him from here," Megabyte rumbled at the doctor, seeming to speak from somewhere among the clouds. "You're dismissed, Healer."

"Maybe I shouldn't have drunk that wine after all…"

"Nonsense." Bob heard the door close — and then uttered a bleary yelp of protest as Megabyte stepped up beside him, got one arm behind his shoulders and one arm behind his knees, and swept him up as lightly as if he were an empty grain-sack. 

"Hey!" He smacked his left fist on that broad metallic chest, feeling as weak as a kitten. "Put me down!"

Megabyte just laughed at him. "So you can fall over again? I think not!" Then he started walking, and Bob's head got left behind and took a few seconds to catch up.

"You'll… I'll…" They passed out of the lit room and into darkness, and Bob's buzzing mind finally caught on: "You're taking me to bed!"

"Your powers of deduction are truly astounding."

"You're finally taking me to bed…" Bob's triumphant laugh came out as a drunken giggle, but he still locked his hands behind Megabyte's neck as the virus laid him down, interlacing his fingers between the dorsal spines that adorned that proud spine and holding fast. "Thank _Cestia_ … though I've gotta say, your timing leaves a helluva lot to be desired…"

He felt the substantial weight of that tall figure seat itself on the edge of the bed. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Megabyte declared — but the dim light from the living room traced the outline of his smirk as he reached up to detach Bob's grip from his neck.

Bob wasn't letting go that easily. "C'mon, Megabyte," he wheedled, "I've seen the way you look at me. Like I'm… like I'm something you want to eat up in big bites." He fell briefly silent, letting his head fall back on the pillow as he gazed up into that dark face, all trace of hilarity fading as he abruptly realized: _This could be it._  "With those long, sharp teeth of yours… I won't put up a fight, I promise. Just — give it to me. All of it. I can take it." Remembering the thunder of a savage roar and the fury that had been unleashed in response to the injury that arrow had inflicted upon him, he licked lips suddenly dry with anticipation and as an afterthought muttered: "Whatever 'it' is…"

"I don't eat, as you well know," Megabyte rebuked him, keeping his fangs demurely sheathed. His fingers, which had closed around Bob's wrists, paused at the point of breaking the sprite's grip. "And even if I were inclined in that direction, do you honestly expect me to bed you while you're non compos mentis?"

"While I'm… huh?"

"Intoxicated."

Bob scowled. "Oh. But I'm not intoxi-toxicated. Just…"

Megabyte's smile turned threatening. "One thing is certain: _if_  I were to indulge you, you certainly wouldn't feel either my claws or my teeth to full effect in your present state. And I believe you'd particularly enjoy that."

Bob narrowed his eyes, his heart rate taking a precipitous leap at the prospect. "You think?"

"Oh, yes." One of those slender hands released Bob's wrist and shifted to his left hip, caressing, then pinning him down with easy strength that was no less obvious for being so subtly implied. "Admit it, Bob: you love danger — it's what you live for, really. You'll throw yourself headlong into any situation that promises the thrills you crave, and all the better if you can find some moral justification for your impetuous choices."

"I'd throw myself into you," Bob almost groaned with frustration, "if you'd just give me a damned chance…"

Megabyte's expression turned arch. "Unlike you, I don't follow every random impulse that —"

Bob took a firmer grip, pulled himself up with a muted grunt of effort, and kissed those thin lips just to shut them up for a few seconds. The virus's mouth was wider than that of other humanoids, of course, but after a moment it responded with answering pressure, and Bob was brave enough to run the tip of his tongue along that bottom row of silver teeth, now retracted to a "safe" length — but still very sharp, with a lingering metallic chill that tasted marvellously alien. He probed more aggressively and felt a flicker of something thin and cool and slick, tasting and gliding in its turn. How strange, that a creature that burned so hot within could feel so cold…

But too soon his strength gave out and he had to sink back panting, with his right arm throbbing and his head spinning. When he opened his eyes again he found Megabyte glaring down at him, outrage writ large on his sharply sculpted features.

"You _dare?_ " the warlord demanded in a sibilant growl.

Bob grinned defiantly. "Yeah. I dared. What're you gonna do about it?"

The hands on his hip and his forearm tightened, fractionally extended claws indenting his skin. "I will forgive you that appalling impropriety," Megabyte said with deadly softness, "only because you're clearly not in your right mind."

"If you didn't like it, why'd you kiss me back?"

A low hissing exhalation, and new fire in his narrowed eyes. The next thing Bob knew both his wrists were pinned hard to the bed on either side of the pillow and hot breath was jetting against his throat — and he instinctively froze because he could see far too many teeth again, bared along the length of Megabyte's jaw all the way back to his crest as the virus leaned even closer, poised with jaws opened as if deciding whether or not to tear out the throat of —

"What the hell _am_  I to you, anyway?" The words escaped in a whispered rush in spite of the dreadful danger — and yes, his heart was beating hard and fast, his whole body thrilling with the surge of adrenaline and his cock half-erect in spite of the drugs coursing through his system. "Someone you trust? Someone you hate? Someone you play with? Someone you call a —"

"An impertinent boy," Megabyte snarled wolfishly, "who should have met his justly deserved end long since."

"Then do it!" He closed his eyes and forced the tense line of his body to relax against the luxurious mattress. "I said I wouldn't fight you — and I meant it. Just… no more games. No more, Megabyte. I'm so fucking _tired_ …"

And suddenly he was. The sting of bright tears surprised and appalled him; he blinked them away, thinking that it must be the datarra root wine weakening the usually robust foundations of his mind and heart. He was just starting to feel truly miserable on his own behalf when Megabyte's sigh surprised him — low, weary, bone-deep — followed by the unexpected pressure of the virus's cheek coming to rest against the angle of Bob's neck.

"The answer to your question," Megabyte said quietly, "is 'all of the above', Guardian."

Bob's mind was swimming, blurring as his vision blurred. He wasn't even sure he'd heard what he thought he'd heard: "… a friend…?"

"Someone who wouldn't have taken an arrow in the arm if he'd only listened to me in the first place." Another sigh, this one much more acerbic. "But I'm becoming accustomed to having both my advice and my orders ignored whenever you find it convenient to do so."

That made him chuckle in spite of the painful mix of emotions swirling in his chest. "You know me… always danced to my own tune…"

"Indubitably." Still securing Bob's wrists to the mattress, albeit more gently, he drew back enough to study the sprite's face critically. Bob tried to meet his unblinking gaze and couldn't get his eyes to focus. "Oh dear… you're fading fast, aren't you?"

 _I'm fine, thanks,_  Bob tried to retort. What came out was a peevish but inarticulate mumble. 

"Hrm." His jaws were closed again, the hind teeth covered, as he leaned forward and up to press cool lips to Bob's forehead in a kiss both brief and paternal. "Go to sleep, Bob. We can continue this discussion in the morning," and his voice fell to an amused murmur as he released Bob's wrists and rose to his feet: "Assuming that you remember any of it…"

 _I'll never forget those kisses,_  Bob thought, but knew better than to try to say it out loud. He finally let himself fall and was lost in warm darkness before Megabyte's footsteps reached the doorway, and that was where he stayed until dawn broke over Forhault's Holm — and brought with it the next round of the dance Bob had asked Fate's Piper to play when he stole Lord Edrill's slaves, consequences and advice be equally damned.

THE END


End file.
